


The Dareeyak Fragments

by Laetitia_Laetitii



Category: Runescape
Genre: Gen, Mahjarrat, The Last Shelf, Zarosian Empire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-28 10:39:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6325750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laetitia_Laetitii/pseuds/Laetitia_Laetitii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two short ficlets about the Zarosian Empire and its expansion campaigns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

_[…] in the foothills of the Dareeyak Range, before wheat or grapevine was ever planted in the dark, volcanic soil […] where the wind blows hot in the summer and the mountain streams carve their ways through the fertile earth._

_Where the soil is now tilled and terraced, the streams long forced into irrigation ditches, where villas punctuate the lines of well-paved roads […] used to be but steep hillsides covered in ivy-clad oak._

_Up on the hills where oak gives way to pine, ever shorter and meaner […] the mountain-folk dwelled, bastard cousins of the Freemen of the west […] could never give a damn about a thing beyond archery and goatherding. […] as they said, a Dareeyak man would not wage war or seek a fight as long as he has a bow of yew, a herd of goats and a woman with two long braids down her back._

_Such was the saying in the south-west Forinthry Plains. The soldiers said: “Join the Dareeyak campaign: Uniform, rations, pay and all the arrows you can eat.”_

_Somewhere on the upper slopes we were ambushed. […] A man leaped up on a rock, a few strides above me. He stood tall, broad-shouldered and well-formed, the way a man does when his diet has never lacked meat nor milk. His clothes were of fur and coarse wool, and his fair hair was weighed down with grease. On his face were painted stripes with red paint, in his hair were streaks of red paint, and as he drew his bow with its burning arrow he could have been one of mine._

_He called to me,high from his rock: “Go home Mahh-jehht! Have you got no home to go, Zarosian! Leave us be! Go on home, go to your home, go to your hearth and your woman!”_

_I have never had a home, nor a hearth nor a wife, but I had a job to do._

_And so I incinerated him where he stood._

-From the private notebooks of Legatus Wahisietel


	2. II

For a long time we thought that the trouble in Dareeyak was over. We thought that the hill people had finally fled to the mountains for good, or that maybe they had crossed over to the west to bother the Freemen. That was what we hoped, and thus believed.

By then most of the slopes overlooking Forinthry were being cultivated. The oak forests had been mostly cut down, and the tree trunks had found their way to the frames of farmhouses. Villages were rising everywhere, a road was built from the plains to Lassar. It is good country for wine and olive, and the cold, clear mountain streams always keep it in water.

Some of the people who had moved in were from the Forinthry Plains. Some were retired career soldiers who after twenty years of service had received land as a part of an honourable discharge. Some were resettled Kharidians. After the Blast the province had never been able to support its population, and instead of subventing them with imported wheat, the Empire had turned to moving thousands of them to the frontiers, where they were granted allotments in exchange for work service.

Then the hill people came back. They appeared from the mist one summer’s morning, and attacked the largest settlements, shooting burning arrows into the buildings and setting fire to the vineyards. When the attack was over, a thick coat of smoke hung over the hills and corpses lay between the charred remains of olive trees.

The army was sent in once more, but they could not find a trace of the attackers. The Dareeyakians had retired back to the unknowable mountains, where they hid in deep caves and kept guard over narrow paths. Sometimes scouts were sent to look for their encampments. None of them ever came back.

The attacks became routine. Sometimes a week would pass, sometimes three months, and all the while the settlers lived in fear. And eventually they would come down again, armed with fire, killing as many as they could and destroying as much as they could. They rarely bothered with stealing.

This went on for a year. The losses were deemed bearable, and for a long time the people in faraway Senntisten wanted to think the matter would pass on its own. And then one day the Dareeyakians took a step further, and attacked the garrison. It wasn’t more than a glorified camp back then, and a little fire goes a long way in such a place.

After that, not even Senntisten could remain inactive. They did what they always did when their pride was at stake, and sent Zamorak.

The previous attempts at defence had been hopeless. The tribes were scattered all over the mountains, and could emerge anywhere, at any time and disappear again within an hour. No-one knew where they lived or made their war-camps. If the army managed to beat back one attack, another one was made ten miles away the next day. If the army guarded one path, they would circle around to another one.

Zamorak had a different approach. He did not wait for the Dareeyakians to come out, and he did not send any scouts. He went in himself. He walked into a mountain pass, and the following night he returned with envoys from two of the nine tribes. He had found their camps, and had presented himself as a messenger of the Empire. The hill people, of course, had been astonished that anyone could find them, and though by then they had some idea of the power of the Mahjarrat, they respected his courage for having come alone. He had made them an offer: If they allied themselves with the Empire, they would in exchange be granted a certain amount of land in the lower slopes to live in and to govern as they pleased. The first two tribes he had approached had accepted, and he did not need any more.

In the camp Zamorak had the envoys treated as his guests, but it was plain that they also were his hostages. Should their people try to betray him, the representatives would be the first to suffer. It was hardly surprising then, that there were so many sons of the chieftains among them.

But the hill people kept their word. After four days the scouts of the two tribes came down to the camp, and told Zamorak everything about the others: Where they were, and how many they were in number; which ones were preparing to attack and which ones were busy with other work. According to all that, Zamorak drafted a plan –where to place his troops, and how to get them deeper into the mountains unnoticed. How to secure his own men’s retreat and how to cut off that of his enemies. All this he planned sitting at a table in his Legate’s tent, drawing on a map as the envoys and scouts talked about about passes and dead ends, about camping grounds and springs.

In two weeks’ time the plan was put into action. Up north where the hills turn frozen was a narrow passage through which they could enter the mountains undetected. With Dareeyakian scouts leading the way, centuria after centuria of Zamorak’s men disappeared between the cliffs, double file on the narrow path, the wind tearing at their flame-red tunics. In the foothills, the troops from the garrison blocked the way to Forinthry. Down in Lassar Province the fortress at Mons Albus had been alerted, and they kept guard over the southern end of the range.

It took four days for the Imperial soldiers and the warriors of the two tribes to get to their stations around enemy camps, and on the dawn of the fifth day they attacked. They caught them unawares, war camps and settlements alike, and rained on them fiery arrows and missile spells, explosives and rocks. Those who managed to flee ran right into the troops guarding the passages. It was over very soon.

At the end, Zamorak gave the surviving ones two choices: surrender and captivity, or death. Those who chose the former wanted to lay down their arms personally at his feet, and whatever dignity there was in that he granted them. They walked to him, one by one, and kneeled to hand over their longbows and hemp-wrapped arrows. Then they continued past him, and allowing their hands to be secured, joined a long line of men tied at the waist. They were walked off like that, with their women and children following behind.

Some of them were taken to the mines at Ghorrock. The more co-operative ones were resettled in other parts of Forinthry. A few were allowed to join the army. They always need good men like that.

And Zamorak kept his end of the deal. He had made it without approval from the Church, but at that point no-one cared too much. The two tribes settled on their promised hills, and herded goats and pitched tents as they always had. Whenever the population grew too large, some would come down and go to the cities, or enlist in the military.

This went on for hundreds of years, until the Church declared the land too valuable. They decreed that the Dareeyakians would either join in on developing their land, or agree to be removed. Zamorak, of course went livid over it. He had given them his word, and now people who had never been involved in the whole affair, people born centuries after it, wanted to make an oathbreaker out of him over a few hills of pasture and woods? They wanted to, and eventually, they did. And they never understood what his problem was.


End file.
